A: Another bunch of doggerel songs! Bloody hell! Why can't he write lyrics that make sense?
B: But the dislocations are the whole point. He's doing collage. He approaches his subject like a Cubist- from all angles at once.
A: You're sure he's not just being lazy? I mean, does he never edit himself?
B: The guy's released 35 albums and never stops touring. Lazy is the last thing he is.
A: So you're happy with songs that maunder on for 15 minutes like the one about the Titanic? One of the critics said it reminded him of McGonagall's Tay Bridge Disaster. A real writer would have cut the thing down to a quarter of the length.
B: But it's a broadsheet ballad. It's meant to sound like McGonagall. That's just the effect he's aiming at.
A: You mean he's deliberately churning out sentimental piffle?
B: Yes. But it isn't piffle. Not really. He's writing words for music, not the page. Put the words and the music together and they work.
A: It's still awfully long.
B: A big boat deserves a big song. Besides traditional ballads are like that. It's called story-telling.
A:. But don't you get tired of all the doom and gloom? It's not the Cold War any longer. Banging on about the apocalypse is so last century .
B: Hey, that's Bob's subject. Always has been. Might just as well condemn Jane Austen for always writing about spinster ladies.
A: I do.
B: So why'd you buy the freaking album then?
A: 'Cause I love him
B: Even though?
A: Even though.
B: Why all the griping?
A: A man's gotta wrestle with his angels.
B: Now you sound like him.
A: I wish.....
B: So what's your favourite song then?
A: Scarlet Town. Has to be.
B: Mine too. Love the line about the "flat-chested junkie whore." Course none of it makes much sense...
A: But what a glorious tune...
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